


Mi Cochinillo

by tourdefierce



Series: A/B/O [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Explicit Language, Knotting, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, References to Knotting, Scent Kink, Scent Marking, Scenting, Semi-Public Sex, Sex in a Car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 01:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11325603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tourdefierce/pseuds/tourdefierce
Summary: Auston Matthews is kind of a bully.





	Mi Cochinillo

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this little bit after writing a huge thing--so it's practically plotless. Shout out to Jessica for the assist in betaing, all remaining mistakes are my own. I really don't know anything about anything. 
> 
> I hand waved a bit about A/B/O, made a lot of things up and hand waved even more about feelings and the Leafs in general. If you see any glaring errors, please do let me know. Also, please do let me know if you need me to tag anything else--I am terribly sorry if I missed something or forgot to warn for something. 
> 
> It should also be known that when I refer to Auston in emoji, it's just the pig snout, often times a dozen of them and then a link to an IG post in black and white. Anyway, pig snout emoji. Hence the title, which I hope translates to _my piglet_ \--although I only confirmed with one Spanish speaker from Mexico and I bet they had no idea this was why I wanted to know.

Maybe it’s because he grew up with omegas his whole life, but the stench of alpha always makes Auston a little nauseous. He prefers the scent of omegas and even the light, barely there scent of betas makes him feel more settled than the overpowering smell of alpha. He got lucky growing up, his parents overly cautious about time spent with alphas -- especially in the hockey circuit and Auston’s so fucking grateful because he’s yet to meet an alpha that doesn’t grind his gears. 

Maybe he’s got a sensitive nose. Or maybe he’s just a bitch, but Auston’s never met an alpha he’s wanted to waste any time with. 

He just _doesn’t like them_. The way they smell, they way they act around him or their expectations of him. It’s not like they don’t end up being friends or teammates well enough, but it’s a struggle to get past the all-out assault on his senses. It’s hard for him not to instantly dismiss any alpha he meets from his pool of friends and lovers because it’s _hard_ and although he enjoys the grind, some things aren’t worth the little time he has outside of hockey.

He gets it. He does, really. 

He’s not ashamed of being an omega -- not ashamed of his heats or who he spends them with or anything to do with his dynamics identity. But being an omega doesn’t constitute his entire personality. Like, would Eich still be a snipey cunt if he went first? Yes, absolutely 100% and anyone who knows him would know that. It has nothing to do with going first or second, or the fact that he’s a beta compared to McDavid’s alpha status. 

Dynamics are essential. Instinct is bullshit. 

In Auston’s experience, alphas are mostly all instinct.

<3<3<3

Coach Babcock calls him, unofficially, the day after the Leafs win the lotto and Auston has to do the most awkward interview in the history existence through a shitty connection that makes him question his life choices. He doesn’t really have time for this. He’s busy playing hockey, good fucking hockey, and not reading any of the articles about how much personality Laine has compared to the boring, American omega from Arizona who looks like a dementor.

“To be fair,” Zach says over Facetime, a million time-zones away, “your ass has been known to suck the soul out of people full on dementor style. That’s fucking real life.” 

What the hell does Zach know, he’s never been so lucky. 

Babs is so Canadian it makes Auston’s teeth ache, but he likes the way he’s generally up-front about Auston’s hockey and how it fits in with what Babs’ plan is for the team. He doesn’t mention dynamics or Auston’s status or anything else. He calls to talk hockey and then hangs up. It’s not the last time he’ll hear from Coach over the summer -- which is something that takes some getting used to. It prickles at first, but Auston swallows his pride and reminds himself that he can’t get through the NHL with automatically loathing every single alpha that speaks to him or get his hackles raised because he thinks someone is being a douche because he’s an omega. First of all, that would make the locker room extremely awkward, and second of all, there’s a fine line between asshole and prejudice and he walks it every day. 

“He’s not calling to check up on you because you’re on omega,” his mother says, ruffling his hair and eating a Kinderegg. Auston tries not to scowl down at his phone, where Babcock has just sent his second text in a week. “He’s checking up on you because you’re a child, mi cochinillo.” 

Auston despairs but he texts back because he’s not going to let this stand between him and the show.

<3<3<3

He wears Vicks vapor rub under his nose for games. He’s always been particularly sensitive to scents but it’s worse during games, when emotions are high and everyone’s projecting like crazy. On his mother’s advice, he wears some to the draft.

Laine smells like verbena so strongly that Auston gags a little when he first meets him. That doesn’t seem to dissuade Laine from leaning into Auston’s space like they’re friends or throwing his head back to laugh, making the room smell like alpha asshole. Thankfully, Chucky has the same clean scent he’s always had and Auston hides behind him as much as he can, which isn’t a ton because it’s _Laine or Matthews_ and Chucky gets to spend most of his time getting his dick sucked by literally anyone who expresses the slightest interested in fucking a draft pick. 

He wears the Vicks for the draft and doesn’t even mind telling his mother that she was right, especially not when she’s sobbing into his Leafs jersey and making him never want to leave her side. He just holds her close and tries to focus on her scent and not bawl his eyes out. He could pick her out from a crowd, even with the Vicks dulling everything, smelling like hot, dry sand and pickle flowers. Her’s always been stronger than his dad’s and after so many years of bonding, his soft scent of aloe is practically erased by hers. Dad doesn’t seem to mind but whenever Auston thinks about smelling like someone else -- how their scents would mix when they bond -- he wants to disappear into the desert and never look back. 

Dramatic, but his dad got lucky, okay? Anyone would want to smell like Auston’s mom. Everyone else kind of stinks. 

“Someday, Papi,” she always says when he scowls at bonding, no matter the dynamics present. “Someday someone will catch your eye and your big nose will relent.”

“My nose is a normal size.” he always says, bitter and angry and sometimes tired, but she always reaches over to kiss him, her scent washing over him like a dust storm. “Mi cochinillo, your snout is as big as your heart.” 

She’s his mother, she loves him despite his faults.

<3<3<3

Training camp is another assault on his senses--more than a few alphas on the roster and even the betas seem to have a stronger scent than normal. It’s probably just his imagination, so he wears his Vicks and keeps any opinions he has about scents to himself. It’s _rude_ , no matter where you grew up or what dynamics agenda you subscribe to, but Auston often can’t help himself. He keeps his bitching to his friends back home, who don’t care who smells horrible in the NHL because they hardly care what the NHL is other than it’s Auston’s job and it brings Scottsdale some positive attention. Also, they can’t stop thinking of him as a rink rat with a duffle-bag full of jerseys, begging to play just one more game. It’s hard for that to translate to whom he is now, he’ll always be that kid to them.

He smells Mitchell Marner before he meets him. 

Tart, mouth watering apples seize Auston’s senses before he can even focus. He inhales again -- it’s strong, but he can’t help but take another gulping breath. It just lingers on Auston’s palette, making it hard to even tie his skates because of the way it floods his senses and pinches at the hinges of his jaw with force. Fresh, neatly cut green apples, sour but crisp and refreshing and there, at the end, something softer that Auston can’t seem to pinpoint. 

He has to swallow twice, his mouth swelling with scent. 

When Marner rounds the corner, Auston is struck at how small he is because the tilt of his head, his braying laugh and sharp eyes all say the same thing: I’m full of alpha cockiness and I’m comfortable with it. He’s clearly unbothered by the room, laughing with a few of the guys and the spastic movement of his hands makes him look nervous but excited. He’s handsome, compact and lithe but holding his ground around bigger guys while he subtly scents the hair. 

Just another hockey alpha from the GTA. 

Auston ignores the urge to scent the air again. This isn’t anything new. Everyone smells, and no one needs to know that for some odd reason, Marner’s scent feels like a kick in throat. 

“God he fucking reeks,” Auston mutters, because he can’t help himself. He sounds petty and bitter, even to his own ears, but it’s soft enough that he doesn’t think anyone hears him. Beside him, Mo laughs and says, “You’re a piece of work, Matthews.” 

Auston shrugs, tries not to blush and leaves it at that. He doesn’t want to make waves. 

Mo doesn’t seem to mind, takes whatever bitchiness everyone has in stride, even Auston’s. He’s captain material in every way that matters, has a knack for keeping the peace in the locker room but seems comfortable confronting the boys when they need it. Auston sees him and Naz, Mom and Dad of the Leafs, pull a few guys aside at various times, Marner included. Auston likes Mo because he’s nice and easy going but honestly prefers the company of Naz. He smells nice, like dark cloves and sometimes, grapes. Like SwisherSweets. And Naz makes Auston feel better about being an asshole because no one is a bigger asshole than Naz. 

“Dude, do you want to fuck Kadri?” Zach asks one day after training camp, after Auston’s told a story. Auston’s getting his ass kicked at COD because he needs to space for a while. Naturally, Zach’s not doing shit because he lives in Columbus, Ohio and his team is lame. 

“Nah,” Auston says, truthfully. “He’s hot but him and Mo have this mom and pop thing going. Makes me dry as the Sahara.” 

Zach chokes on his tongue, which gives Auston an advantage for once, and he manages not to die while excecuting some ametuer moves and managing to kill Zach onscreen. Zach’s parents were super conservative, always raised him to be a good little beta, and the most trouble Zach gets into was instigated by Auston and Chucky. NTDP for life and all that shit. If it wasn’t for them, Zach would most certainly still be a virgin. Which is a shame, since he’s finally growing into his face and all. 

“You and Marner getting along?” Zach asks, once Auston has died again. He hasn’t even picked up his controller again. He’s over it really. 

“He’s fine.” 

Zach laughs and Auston growls. He can’t fucking help it. The smell of Marner grinds his gears -- it’s like being smacked with a bag of apples and _liking it_ , which is a fucking surreal feeling that knocks him off kilter every time. Auston feels like the locker room is a fucking farmer’s market and every time he finds himself scenting the air for another whiff, he hates himself and Marner a little more. 

“Are you sure you’re not like, into it?” Zach asks, hesitant and Auston swears. “I’m just saying, Matts. You’ve got other alphas on your team, right? What the fuck is your beef?” 

Zach’s not completely wrong and Auston doesn’t know why, which is sort of the problem. There are a few alphas on the team and they all stink, that’s nothing new, but Marner’s _everything_ is the issue because it’s aggressive and brazen and horrible, but then at the end, his scent softens just like the rest of him and it’s all sunshine, floppy hair, and bright, blue eyes. It’s mindless and confusing and awful. Auston is repulsed, then vaguely turned on, annoyed, and then murderous about everything while staring down at his boner and hoping he’s not getting wet. 

Which makes Auston sound like a petty-ass bitch but maybe that’s just what he is. 

“He’s just…” Auston starts and then forces himself not to squirm. Zach waits him out and then starts to laugh. “Fuck off, man.” 

“Sounds like you’re finally met an alpha your nose doesn’t hate,” Zach says and Auston growls again because Zach is as annoying as he is awesome. 

“He fucking stinks,” Auston says. “But it’s not just that, I don’t know man. He’s annoying as fuck. Always running his mouth, bouncing around and bothering people. You should have seen him buddying up to Martin, like some alpha lovefest.” 

“You just sound jealous, Matts but okay, I’ll play along.” 

Auston feels caught-out now, unable to explain exactly what about Marner sets Auston on edge, makes him feel alienated and exposed but comfortable at the same time. He settles for his default pissy, “Fuck you, goddamn betas always think they know shit.” 

“Hey-”

“Whatever, I’m out. Catch you later.” 

Auston disconnects, switching off the TV and stomping to the kitchen. He’ll send Zach a text later and apologize, but for now, he’ll simmer in his own ridiculousness. His father is making a smoothie when he gets to the kitchen, something with far too much sugar and the smell of apples makes Auston sneer. 

“You smell--” his dad says, nose wrinkling.

Auston throws up his hands, he’s sure he smells angry but come on. “What the fuck! Can we just not talk about it?” His outburst gets him raised eyebrows but when Auston settles down at the breakfast bar, his dad pulls out the greens for Auston’s smoothie and soon the kitchen smells less like apples and more like spinach. 

At least he’ll get a break, head to Worlds and ignore Leafs Nation for a few weeks. Get his head on straight and come back with a better perspective.

<3<3<3

It’s the night before the regular season and if Auston doesn’t do something with himself, he’s going to go insane. He sends out a few texts -- Willy and Zach, who Auston spends most of his time with in the past few weeks. They’re good buffers, once Auston gets over the initial temptation to hit on Willy, who is just too pretty for his own good but ultimately not Auston’s type. Willy and Zach are nice guys, way nicer than Auston’s ever been. He tries to live by the mantra his mother always said, _if you don’t have anything nice to say…_ , which means he spends his time practically silent. Willy and Zach don’t mind, they fill up the space with chatter and rope in other guys if they need to, but they make Auston laugh and Willy smells like fresh snow, comforting omega and always a bit like sex.

And, for whatever reason, Willy tends to keep Marner away. He’s the only person on the team that Marner seems wary of because Marner, like most alphas, generally assumes everyone loves him until they practically have to snarl and scream to get Marner to understand that he’s not particularly welcome. Something about Willy makes Marner uneasy though, maybe he wants to mate him -- who even knows, it’s not like Willy isn’t hot -- but Marner tends to keep at least three people between him and Willy at all times. It’s hilarious and convenient for Auston, who uses it as an excuse to keep his distance from Marner. 

They go out for sushi. 

“Did Mo text you back or nah?” Zach asks Willy as they’re sitting down. Auston picks the chairs as close to the window as possible because half the restaurant lifted their head when they came in and someone smells so strongly like campfire that Auston feels like he’s got a faceful of ash. 

“Nah,” Willy says. “Marns did but he didn’t want to come out with Auston.” 

“He didn’t want to hang out with you,” Auston says, snarling a little bit, then adds, “Good. Fuck ‘em.” out of omega solidarity. 

Zach rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Everyone knows Marner is afraid Auston is going to eat him if he comes too close. And don’t get me started on you, Willy. I think everytime you text Mitchie, he cries. I can’t tell if it’s with joy or fear.” 

Willy grins and waggles his eyebrows. “Alphas are so cute.” 

Auston grinds his teeth and takes a deep breath. Despite Willy being an ass, he smells like fresh snow -- ice over grass and sharp glacier fed waters. It’s comforting, even when he’s talking about Marner. 

“Mitchell is much better company than you two,” Zach says, looking haughty and Willy laughs.

“Then go eat dinner with him,” Auston says, prickly and sour. God. Just imagining Marns’ flushed face, eyes dancing with excitement for their first game and hands jittering around as he talks, laughing with his impossibly wide mouth, makes Auston want to punch something. Or maybe it makes him want to shut Marner up with his dick, stretch his lips over Auston’s omega dick and make him take it until his hands stop moving and have no choice but to hold Auston down. 

Or both -- punching Marner and getting his dick sucked sounds great, actually. 

“Aw, you know you’re my favorite little pissy omega,” Willy says and then makes kissy noises, leaning into Auston’s face until he has no choice but to push him away. Across the table, Zach shrugs and picks up his phone. They leave it at that, ordering a metric fuckton of sushi and deliberately avoid any talk of tomorrow’s game. Safer topics are aplenty, especially with Willy getting hit on by everyone within spitting distance and Zach unable to control his face.

Auston doesn’t have to talk about Marner for a few days because everyone is talking about him instead. 

Four goals feel fucking insane. The bench smells like excitement and that high adrenaline rush that reminds Auston of winning. Except they don’t win -- Auston turns the puck over and can’t get it back in enough time. It ends up in the back of the net and all he tastes is sour. He takes a deep breath, knocks knuckles with Leo, and for once in his life, lets the smell of an alpha settle his nerves a little bit. 

Then he goes and faces the media. 

He doesn’t think about the sheen of sweat on Marner’s upper lip when he looks across the room. He ignores the whiff of sharp apples and… lemonade, a sweetness he’s finally placed. He forces himself not to chase the scent. He focuses on the flashing bulbs, the low crumbling of his own pride, and grinds out the quotes they all are waiting for him to say. 

Auston says his lines and hopes the way he smells speaks volumes to reporters and nosey, alphas alike.

<3<3<3

He’s got texts from all the boys, both in the NTDP group chat and individually because they’re all fucking extra as shit. He replies as much as he can, still wound up and not ready to sleep. The turnover keeps running over and over in his head like a broken record.

Auston replies to JT and a few of the AZ boys first and then scrolls through his messages, replying with emojis when he can and letting the other ones go unanswered. There’s one right at the bottom that makes him do a double take. 

From: Mitchell Marner

Auston blinks. All the Leafs are in his phone -- because the PR lady is hella scary and Auston follows instructions. But Marner has never texted him before. He eyes it for a moment and then thumbs it open. 

_Sweet goals tonight! Don’t sweat the L._

What the fuck is Marner doing texting him when he was there the entire time, an annoying and very present smell on the bench the entire game, even through the Vicks, is beyond Auston. It pisses him off, Auston doesn’t need Marner’s reassurance. He doesn’t need anyone to tell him that he did a good job, fuck them. Stupid alpha _bullshit_ that reeks like the instinct to protect and makes Auston want to bite until someone bleeds. They fucking lost and he’ll process that as much as he goddamn wants, fuck. This isn’t gradeschool. Gold stars meaning nothing when they walk away without a single point to show for it, just Auston’s “historic” losing night.

His first reaction is to respond in kind but a voice that sounds suspiciously like Mo tells him to chill the fuck out. 

They don’t talk much by mutual agreement. Marner had introduced himself with his natural exuberance and pep but Auston’s general demeanor squashed that pretty quickly. From then on it has always been appropriate distance, demuring to Auston in a non-threatening manner that makes Auston’s hackles raise on principle -- even though he’d be pissed if Marner approached him differently. While each encounter isn’t hostile, their interactions stay fairly formal and somewhat different than Marner and Willy’s. It’s like, with Willy, Marner is clearly just unseated by Willy. Maybe it’s his scent or his face, but something about him makes Marner check himself. With Auston, Marner looks like he’s barely restraining himself from asking Auston _why oh why_ they can’t be friends. 

Auston never wants anyone to forget that he holds all the cards, especially alphas, and guys like Marner always push the envelope. One moment they’re all bustling nice-guy energy and the next, they’re trying to scent you and dig their teeth in where they have no place being. Auston is no one’s omega but his own and no one will ever forget it. 

Marner is clearly confused by Auston’s standoffishness, but he hasn’t broached the topic. He jokes with Auston on the bench, despite Auston’s lack of reaction, and keeps his distance when there is fewer than two people between them. He’s polite and respectful, and perhaps that also rubs Auston the wrong way, the way Marner is constantly proving him wrong. 

_Thank you._ Auston settles on and then doesn’t let his fingers type anything else. 

Marner’s read receipt is fast and three gray dots appear instantly. 

_You were fucking lit. See you tomorrow!_

There’s a thumbs up emoji at the end and Auston wants to immediately snarl back that he doesn’t need Marner’s approval on his play but he knows this text was probably not about that. Auston doesn’t know what this text is -- like the phantom breath of Marner on the bench or the way he visibly starts and stops with Auston. He wants to chock it up to just how Marner is, with how he’s weird with Willy, but this seems deliberate, like he’s drawing a line between the strangeness with Auston and his fear of Willy. 

Auston stares at the message until his head starts to hurt.

<3<3<3

It’s not that Auston hates the way Marner smells.

“Spit it out,” his mom says, whisking the eggs with a fervor that means she’s 100% done with him. Auston sighs and defiantly gulps down his protein smoothie before he says- “It’s distracting.” 

Invading. Throbbing. Persistent. Distinctly alpha and yet… not unpleasant. Just lingering. 

“There is nothing wrong with liking it,” his mother says softly, thankfully not turning around. Auston groans. 

“I like Willy’s scent,” he says. “I don’t- Marner _bothers_ me.” At the stove, his mother clucks her tongue and Auston really doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. 

“He’s your teammate. You should make an effort.” 

Auston twitches. “What kind of effort?” 

“A friendly one,” his mom says. “He’s not trying to court you, Papi. He just wants to be your teammate.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“Neither do you,” she says, firmly with command in her voice that makes Auston’s toes curl. “You’ve spent the last two months assuming the worst of that boy. He seems nice and you can be so cruel, mi cochinillo. Perhaps your nose is telling you to be kind. Perhaps this Mitchell is worth more than you’ve been giving him.” 

She leaves it at that but Auston can’t stop prodding at it like a deep tissue bruise.

<3<3<3

October marches on and so do Marner’s texts.

It makes Auston’s skin prickle each time one comes in but he’s starting to wonder if it’s not something other than irritation. He doesn’t wonder too much, because that way lies distraction and he’s too damn busy playing the hockey of his life. They lose more than they win but Mo assures them that it’s 900 times better than it was last year. Auston doesn’t score four goals in a single game again but he’s contributing to the team’s wins and Babs only yells at him 70% of the time for defense, which is on par with the rest of the team. 

And Marner keeps on texting him. 

He doesn’t talk to Auston anymore or any less in person, but Auston feels the weight of his gaze sometimes. Marner never blushes when Auston catches him staring, he just smiles a little half smile and shrugs. Sometimes he waves. Auston doesn’t wave back because he has dignity, but he’ll be damned if he’s the first one to break eye-contact. 

The texts are random. At first, they always follow games. Marner complementing Auston’s play or complaining about a blown call or an opposing team’s player. It’s never particularly personal and Auston doesn’t pretend he understands them. He responds sometimes, not always, but it doesn’t stop Marner from sending them. Lately, they’ve morphed into more than just game commentary. Auston knows that Marner has a constant stream of music going on in his head, craves good delivery Chinese, misses London desperately, and keeps in near constant contact with his boys through online video games. Everyone chirps him for his obsession but Auston gets the feeling that it’s mostly because that’s how he can guarantee those friendships stay close. 

He knows that despite Marner’s general alpha confidence, he seems a bit lonely and homeless, as is he’s floating between people’s places, his parent’s house, and roadie hotels. He knows that Marner is obsessed with hipster candles on Etsy. It’s a seemingly random catalogue of knowledge that keeps trickling in when Auston least expects it. 

Zach insists it says a lot about Marner, that he’s opening up. Auston doesn’t say much of anything about it because he’s not sure where he stands on the matter. 

It’s November and Auston’s too wrapped up in his own points slump to spend too much time thinking about anything else but hockey. His parents are back in Arizona for a family thing and Auston is left with an empty condo and a text from Marner: _Can I ask you something?_

Auston immediately wants to text back in the negative. He settles for: _Is it going to piss me off?_ because he’s been half-heartedly surfing for some porn, watching clips, and then clicking on the next recommended video. If Marner is going to kill his vibe, he’s not interested. 

Marner immediately texts back, _Haha. Everything pisses you off. But nah, it’s hockey related._. 

Auston will admit to being extremely curious. Marner’s a fairly confident guy but no more so than when he’s on the ice. He’ll try some truly insane speedy shit that Auston would never entertain, especially not in the NHL. But then again, Marner’s always been told he can do anything he wants and also, he’s half Auston’s size. 

Auston isn’t thinking about Marner’s size. He pauses the video up on his ipad and stops idly stroking himself through his basketball shorts. 

_Do you think I’m staying up?_

He stares at the text. Management needs to decide officially in the next few days, but part of him feels like if they were going to send Marner back, they would have already. But Babs isn’t playing around and although Marner’s producing more points than Auston, he’s still getting rocked by NHL play. He’s in the trainer’s office more often than not -- black and blue from a hit he didn’t manage to slip out from. It would be selfish for the Leafs to keep him if he’s just going to get injured or fuck it up being too young and dumb to live. 

Then again, they’re letting Auston stay despite his fuck ups.

No one really knows but Babs, is the real answer. So Auston asks if Marner’s talked to coach because everyone else is just speculating. Marner blows past the question. 

_I guess what I’m asking is if you think I should stay up?_

Auston flushes, what the hell does it matter what Auston thinks? But Marner doesn’t stop. 

_Don’t go easy on me, Matts._

As if Auston ever would. _I think you should condo shop._ And then, for some insane reason, he adds, _My building has some openings._ He tosses his phone aside and immediately pushes play on the porno he had paused, except now he’s viciously aware of how one of the omegas on the screen is blonde, small and twinkish. He’s curled up against the back of the second omega, panting and mouthing at a huge claim mark and fucking up into the second omega. It’s all slick sounds and heart-felt moans, which whatever, Auston’s allowed to like porn that isn’t all vicious fucking and cheesy porn dialogue. 

Except now he’s hard, feeling himself slick after literally an hour of casual jacking off, and realizing just how much the omega in the video reminds him of Marner. 

That’s… mildly surprising and hella irritating, but it makes Auston cup his dick again. The thrill of arousal a steady hot throb picks up when he thinks about Marner instead of that blonde omega, all rabbiting hips and suddenly, Auston _wants_. Would Marner gasp against a claim mark like that? Or would he gnaw on it until it was ragged and scent ridden? Would he chant filthy, stupid alpha rot when he fucked or stay silent? Would he fuck with sharp, intentional claim before going soft and sweet like his scent? Would he be as loud as he is in reality? 

Would he let Auston inside him? 

Why the fuck is he even thinking about it? 

As if on cue, his phone buzzes. _That’s literally the nicest thing you’ve ever implied. But also, like, I’d never do that to you, bud, you fucking hate my scent. You can barely stand to play hockey with me, let alone have it all up in your nose off the clock. Sorry about that btw. I’d change it if I could._

Auston is surprised at how much he wants to tell Marner not to say that because scent pride is important. Even when you smell like sin. 

_I don’t hate it_ , is what he settles on because it’s the truth. On screen, the blonde omega arches prettily and comes. The camera pans out from the way he’s clutching desperately, gasping wet and undone against the claim mark to get his cock making an absolute mess of the other omega and, because it’s terribly on-brand, the angle gets in the slickness leaking out of his own hole as he continues to jerk and come inside the other omega. 

Auston watches the blonde on the screen pull out, everything slick and wet. He replaces his spent dick with his mouth, wide and obscene, tonguing at the come there with slurpy sounds before he starts fucking the other omega with his tongue. Auston tries not to think of Marner then, but it’s impossible not to. 

Auston closes his eyes. 

_Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?_ Marner asks, phone vibrating, and Auston stops to really think about it before he answers. Auston wouldn’t be able to smell Marner from inside his apartment as the walls are scent-proof, but he images he’d smell him lingering in the hallway. The sweetness of lemonade -- sharp but sweet and then the burst of green apple crispness that swells and makes his mouth water when Auston walks out of his apartment.

Or perhaps he wouldn’t have to walk outside because he’d be able to smell Marner on his sheets. 

Auston curses. He’s soaked through his underwear with slick. He clears his throat and texts back, _I said I wouldn’t, didn’t I?_ and then tosses his phone onto the bedside table. He ignores the warning bells throbbing in his head and pulls open the drawer to get out the dildo he usually uses closer to his heat--it’s a bit thicker and longer than normal, with a large knot at the base. He rarely uses it because he’s doesn’t always crave a knot.\

Admittedly, he’d sit on his on fist right now if that meant he’d stop thinking about Marner sucking come and omega slick out of him. 

He shimmies out of his underwear and ignores the fact that he can slip the wide head of the dildo in without any resistance because of how slick and open he is. He’s too turned on to examine the whys, he just turns his attention to his ipad. He usually picks one of a female omega getting taken by two alphas, a guy and a woman but at the last second, he toggles to a different video. It’s a POV porno, a faceless alpha getting ridden by an omega that forces two knots taking his pleasure. 

Auston fucks himself, comes twice tasting apples over his tongue, and sits on a knot until he passes out.

<3<3<3

The November deadline comes and goes and Mitchell Marner stays in the Leafs locker room. Auston decides to ignore the jerking off incident as a product of his heat and for the sake of his own sanity, that it will go unexamined. However, Marner doesn’t stop staring in the locker room and that doesn’t go unnoticed or unexamined… since it’s something Auston can’t seem to shake.

“Did you kill Mitchie’s puppy?” Naz asks him one day during practice. It’s brave of him to start any conversation during Babs’ practices but it’s basically over--they’re just waiting their turn to practice face-offs. Auston is distinctly aware of Marner, down at the other end of the ice pretending to deke out Andersen and spending most of his time laughing with his head bent back, neck exposed and vulnerable and very, very pale.

“Marner doesn’t have a dog,” is what Auston replies with because it’s true and also hoping he gives off enough of a ‘Fuck This’ vibe that Naz will go away. 

“He’s just staring at you a lot,” Naz says, voice low. “Are you two--” 

Auston gives him the deadest look he can muster and hopes his cheeks aren’t flushing. Naz bares his teeth around his mouth guard and smiles. “I’m just asking! You’ve been a raging dick to him, but I didn’t think that meant you wanted to sit on his knot until recently. Now I think you’re just being mean because you’re feeling dat alpha love for the first time. You’re growing up so fast.” 

“You’re disgusting,” Auston says, going with cool and collected and pulling it off, even if he feels caught out. 

“He’s hot,” Naz says, tilting his chin up and nodding at where Marner is listening to something Matty is saying, grin wide and easy, still managing to have his mouth guard half out his mouth. “I mean, he’s a child and really fucking annoying but if you’re into that then--” 

“I’m not,” Auston cuts him off and then holds Naz’s gaze until he shrugs, holding his gloved hands up like he’s not a dick that probed into Auston’s private life in their fucking place of work. But when Auston goes to take his place in the face-off circle, Naz smiles like he just got a claim offering from Babs himself. 

Unsurprisingly, Auston loses all but one face-off.

<3<3<3

Two days later, Auston gets a text from Marner that reads: _Coming to look at an apartment in your building. Want to come along?_

He shouldn’t. 

His heat is in three days and although they’ve always been perfectly spaced -- 12 weeks apart to the day -- he has never been able to tell which ones will be stronger than others. Auston’s always been prone to weak heats, barely anything but elevated horniness, but that’s mostly because of his diet and his athleticism. He’s known some omegas that skip heats all the time because of their athlete bodies but he’s always been pretty regular, except sometimes they catch him by surprise and one will turn him into a kneeling, slutty mess, public place be damned, in a heartbeat. 

He’s glad that’s not a regular thing. He surely wouldn’t be able to be this prissy about alpha bullshit if he spent a few days every month begging for knots and seed. That being said, he waits an asshole 45 minutes and then texts Marner back and says, _Sure_. Because he’s a fucking masochist. 

Marner shows up, clearly excited, bouncing on his heels and wearing the biggest scarf that Auston has ever seen. He nods coming through the condo’s spinning doors but makes no moves to take off the scarf when he takes off his gloves. It’s November in Toronto, and while Auston at least wears a coat, Marner is just wearing gloves and the scarf. Which makes no fucking sense. Get a coat.

“What the fuck is on your neck?” Auston asks, because seriously, and also, he’s incapable of saying nice things. Marner blushes immediately, high pink spots on his pale skin. 

“I thought it might help with,” he says, then makes a vague gesture to his neck and then his whole body. “You know--because I smell bad.” 

The scarf is doing nothing to dampen Marner’s scent--Auston feels like he’s being hand-fed thinly sliced apples and washing them down with lemonade. It feels like sunshine and summer on Auston’s face and if Marner thinks a scarf, huge and ugly that it is, can dampen that, he’s a fucking fool. Auston says as much. 

“Oh, sorry, I just--” Marner stutters, looking unsure all of the sudden and Auston curses. 

“No, I meant that it’s fine. I don’t- you shouldn’t try and cover it up,” is what he settles on. Marner stares at him and Auston shoves his hands into the pockets of his skinny jeans, the sudden urge to rip off Marner’s scarf is a bit too much for him to control. “Don’t let me ruin it,” Auston says, voice as flat as he can get it. 

The smile that he gets would blind the fucking sun, if it were making it’s appearance. 

“Can we just go?” Auston asks because he’s edging toward mortified and he knows how cruel he can get. Marner keeps smiling and leads them back to the offices, where a petite beta is waiting for them. 

The condo is almost exactly the same as Auston’s but it’s only got one bedroom instead of two. Auston likes that it faces east and that the light would be gorgeous in the morning. Marner doesn’t say much of anything, just keeps looking at Auston like he’s got something to say and nodding a lot when the realtor talks out her ass about high-end finishings. By some unspoken agreement, Marner follows him back to his condo, leaving the realtor to make platitudes. Auston is thankful his mother is busy making dinner so that they can breeze by her and into the living room without much fuss. 

She’ll be spying as much as she can anyway, but at least he doesn’t have to deal with her face. 

“So what do you think?” Marner asks. Auston sits down on the couch and resists the urge to capture Marner’s fingers and make them still. 

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” Auston says, dull. “You’re living there.” 

Marner tilts his head back and forth. “Sure, yeah. But like, do you like living here?” 

“Sure.” 

Marner nods and then says, “Should I open a window?” 

“What?” 

“I can go too, you must be sick of the smell by now,” Marner adds. Auston blinks. “You don’t have to pretend, I know you think I reek.” 

“All alphas reek,” Auston says on impulse. “You just, you just smell...loud.” 

Marner tilts his head to the side, so much like a dog listening intently that it makes Auston want to mock him but he doesn’t. He watches Marner watch him. 

“Can you explain a little bit more?” He asks, earnest and all wide blue eyes and slick mouth. Auston takes a deep breath and tries not to choke on him. 

“I think all alphas stink,” Auston repeats. “It’s nothing personal and you’re just, a lot of energy and it’s…overwhelming? It’s just a lot.” 

“But not bad?” 

Auston mouth suddenly feels very dry and across the room, Marner hasn’t stopped watching him. He licks his lips and watches Marner’s eyes track the movement. Auston wants to lie, tell him that it’s horrible, but after months of dealing with it… Marner’s scent brings as much interest as it does irritation. Auston can feel the tension in the room skyrocket. He wants to know what he smells like right now -- epiphany? hunger? Stale, fleeting shame?

“No,” Auston admits quietly. “Not bad.” 

Marner keeps staring and Auston watches his pupils dilate, blown wide and impossibly attractive. Auston holds his breath. He’s afraid of what he might find if he takes in Marner’s scent right now. 

“Matts, you have to know-” 

“Michell, are you staying for dinner?” his mom pops her head around the corner. Auston jumps, as if they were touching but Marner’s still halfway across the room. 

“Uh, no,” he says, turning his smile on her. “I’ve got to head out soon.” Auston wants to open his mouth, invite him to stay, say something kind for once, but he can’t bring himself to do or say anything. His mind is still stuck on the moments before, what Marner was saying. 

“But thanks and um, Auston, I’ll come by to pick you up for practice, eh?” 

Marner leaves in a flurry, like apples falling off the tree in tandem and leaving a wake of tart sweetness behind him that has Auston dizzy. His mother watches him go and then says, “He seems like such a nice alpha, Auston. I think he smells nice, a bit like an orchard, don’t you think?” 

He can only nod. His mind is already on the next morning, how Marner has never picked him up before and that the commute to the ACC will the first time they’ve ever been properly alone.

<3<3<3

Marner picks him up for practice the next day with a text that reads, _Here_ with a hockey stick, a car and a heart. Auston walks deliberately slow, hoping it will keep his heart-rate down.

Marner’s truck doesn’t have much of a cab -- just a bench seat in the front and small fold-down side seats in the back. Auston keeps most of his things at the rink but Marner always has this huge bag of shit, which almost pokes him in the eye when he slides into the passenger seat.

“Matts!” Marner says, smiling wide and easy from the driver’s seat. Auston nods at him and then they’re off, Marner pulling into Toronto traffic like a demon and turning up the radio all in one motion. 

“Can you drive like a normal person, Christ?” Auston curses when Marner slams on the brakes to avoid an intrepid cyclist and no less than five businessmen with brief cases, all on their phones. Beside him, Marner sends him a manic smile. That’s when Auston notices the window. 

It’s November, Marner’s not wearing a coat again but the driver’s window is rolled down a little.

“That doesn’t help,” Auston says, when there’s a commercial on and they’re stopped at a red light. Marner blinks at him and Auston swallows, nodding to Marner’s cracked window. “You smell just the same to me. The window or whatever.” 

Marner turns _scarlet_. 

The light turns green and Marner floors it. Auston can’t help but watch the way his blush looks compared to his fair skin. Auston’s pale too -- missing a full AZ summer to keep his olive skin-tone but he’s all cool-tone and nothing like the alabaster state of Marner. Auston doesn’t say anything more and Marner looks like he works himself into a state, not even singing to the radio (a near constant) but wrestling with something. 

They pull into the ACC lot and Auston thinks the truck might combust with tension. He’s never seen Marner this uncomfortable and it makes him wonder what the hell he said. He thought they were doing fairly well in the grand scheme of things but Marner’s level of uncomfortable is off the charts. Auston reaches for the handle to make a break for it when Marner’s fingers grip his arm. It’s through his coat, but Auston swears it feels like a brand. He turns away from the door to find Marner leaning over, still flushed and eyes bright. 

“You’re not the only one who gets overwhelmed,” Marner says, gnawing on his lip. “You smell-”

He breaks off but Auston feels like he’s been slapped. He can fill in the gaps. Not everyone smells nice and sure, Marner might smell loud and good; but it doesn’t always go both ways. Auston could smell foul to Marner, which is probably what he’s trying to say. Christ. Auston’s really read the play wrong here. 

Shame and rage boils low in his stomach. Seems like payback, all those years recoiling at strong alpha scents only to get told he smells horrible by the first alpha that doesn’t make him want to vomit. Or well, Marner still makes him a little sick but perhaps not with disgust, like originally thought. It doesn’t seem to fucking matter now though. 

Marner snatches his hand away from Auston and puts it over his face. Auston can’t help but notice just how wide his hands are--way bigger than his own. Auston needs to go. 

“This is so inappropriate,” Marner says into his fingers and Auston needs to get the fuck out of this car. “Auston, fuck. You just, smell good to me- like, so fucking good, I can’t even. So you know, I keep the window cracked and keep myself out of trouble. I’m trying here.” 

Auston doesn’t breathe. 

“You’re right,” Auston says after three beats too long, Marner looking sheepish and sorry and really fucking attractive with his hand on his flushed cheek. “That was really inappropriate.” 

But he doesn’t move to leave the car and Marner just stares at him, waiting for Auston to scream about how impolite it is to tell anyone how they smell, especially coming from an alpha to an omega in an enclosed space or like, hypocritically freak out or maul him to death in a rage blackout but like, scent has been fucked between them anyway. 

Auston finally takes a deep breath, smells fear and apples and arousal. For once, it’s easy to pick out that it’s not just his own. 

He doesn’t know what to say so he just leans over and invades Marner’s space. In Marner’s defence, he stays stock-still; his eyes are wide with interest and uncertainty and Auston feels a thrill at that. There’s nothing like this power. He looms, he’s bigger than Marner in every way but even more so in the small space of the car. He projects as hard as he can, just tries to let Marner know just how satisfied he is with the praise on his scent. 

Then, he pushes the button and rolls up the window. 

Marner blinks at him. 

Auston says, “You should take a deep breath now.” 

Marner hesitates a beat but then obeys and it’s the sweet release of his obedience that makes Auston growl a little with pleasure. Marner scents the air with purpose, his eyes closing in focus and Auston doesn’t move. He’s awkwardly leaning over Marner still, arm braced on the door and minutes away from unbuckling his belt and climbing into Marner’s lap. So there’s still time for him to sit here with a little shred of his dignity left and watch Marner enjoy him before this gets too out of control. Auston doesn’t dare move because the tension in the car is so high that one false move will send them both into a spiral that Auston cannot have going down in the ACC parking lot but he’s going to give himself this: Marner’s inhale and then, nostrils flaring, a second scent as if he’s chasing after whatever he’s finding there. Marner’s mouth opens, tongue wetting his lips and Auston wants nothing more than to ask what he can taste in Auston’s scent. 

Talk about wildly inappropriate. 

When Marner’s eyes open, his pupils are blown wide and he’s glazed. He looks high as fuck and the satisfied smile he has on his face makes him look like he just knotted the fuck out of someone, instead of taking two innocent scents of Auston in a parked car. 

“Wow,” Marner says, he’s absolute jello against the seat. His eyelids are hooded and Auston wants to eat him or let himself be eaten. Marner’s hard in his sweats -- he’s bigger than Auston would have guessed, not bigger than Auston, but not many dudes Auston’s seen have had bigger dicks than him -- regardless of knot status. However, it’s not the worst dick preview he’s seen in his lifetime. 

Auston wonders what it would feel like--how Marner’s first thrust would be… slow and easy? Quick and desperate? Smooth and deep? 

“Matts,” Marner whispers, mouth opening a few times to take in Auston’s scent in gulps. Auston watches his face and then lets himself smile, just a little, when he can _see_ Marner’s dick twitch. Auston deliberately inhales nice and slow. The scent of green apples isn’t shocking, it’s intense and infuriating, but it blooms into lemonade a little faster, cloying sweet with arousal and Auston can’t help it. Now that he can identify it all, now that it’s easy to say, _Marner smells nice_ , it seems so simple. He’s a bitch but he’s not stupid. It’s pretty straightforward what the hell is going to happen now.

Inevitable really. 

Auston takes a deep breath, mouth flooded with scent so much so that he can practically taste the meat of the apple and the crisp finish of the thin skin on his tongue. It’s tartness that flourishes sweet and simple, making him hungry in a way he can’t remember being ever before. 

It is so easy to tilt this neck and ask.

Marner doesn’t pounce on him and Auston waits, breathing deeply with his mouth open just in case he can taste Marner’s rejection before it’s voiced but the hesitation is even more satisfying when he leans forward, eyes searching Auston’s face and barely touches his forehead to the side of Auston’s bared throat. 

“Fuck, Matts,” Marner whispers and Auston can’t feel his breath through the layers of his coat but he can imagine it. Marner’s scent turns sharply, swollen and needy. Auston pants -- he can’t fucking help it, he’s in sensory overload -- can’t even understand his own arousal, not when it’s like this. 

Auston catches the clench of Marner’s fists out of the corner of his eye. 

Auston’s been courted before and he’s accepted a few of their intentions but nothing has been like this. Usually it’s grand gestures and formality, lots of talking, that took the sexy right out of the room, but this is certainly different. Auston’s never offered before, he’s always waited until they asked before he allowed himself to show his neck and allow a suitor to properly scent him. This is… heady.

Marner whimpers against his neck. 

“I accept,” Auston says and he’s a little embarrassed at how low his voice is, or that he couldn’t think of something less traditional to say, but that’s nothing compared to the way Marner gasps in reaction, his head flinging back against the seat with a bounce. His hair flops over his forehead with the force and Marner groans. Auston almost goes to touch him, ask what’s wrong, but he gets a headrush of scent when Marner’s neck is on display, as pale and lovely as the rest of him and flushing bright pink. He stays still and breaths him in and notices the change in scent immediately.

When Auston looks down, Marner has one hand clamped over his knotting dick, wetness spreading over his lap. 

Marner comes in little twitches, his fist brutally tight over the bulge. It must be painful, especially with his sweats in the way but he doesn’t seem bothered. He keeps his head back, taking gasping breaths and Auston watches him come, massaging his knot with his clenched fist. For once, Marner’s as soaked as an omega, his lap messy with a flood of come and it doesn’t appear to be stopping. 

“If you fucking knew how you smelled,” Marner grits out, head lolling from side to side. “You’d pop off too.” 

Auston can’t help but smirk at that, Marner looks equal parts tense and relaxed--his body is jerking with every squeeze of his fist, trying to plug and push and claim, but his neck is soft and easy with satisfaction and pleasure. This is _definitely_ different than Auston’s previous courting acceptances. 

First of all, no one has ever came at one, which seems a shame in hindsight. 

Marner’s neck is pink and blotchy now, like it is during games. And he smells devine -- almost enough for Auston to reach down and touch himself, get off on Marner’s feedback loop. Almost. Auston’s not a fucking heathen like Marner though. He’s definitely not that desperate. 

“Would you mind?” Marner says, soft. Auston raises an eyebrow but Marner doesn’t look sorry. “Please? It would make me feel better here, get this back on track.” 

Auston doesn’t respond, just tips forward and mimics the pose Marner took before he came: neck to forehead. Marner sighs like a cat stretching in the sunspot -- satisfied. Auston’s toes curl. 

“You reek, Marns,” Auston says, deadpan, when he pulls away and Marner grins at him. “And you wanted to stand on ceremony here? I think we’re a little passed that.” 

“Believe it or not, that’s the first time that’s happened.” 

Auston pretends he doesn’t feel satisfied with that. “Filthy knot-poppers. Shameful really.” 

Marner rolls his eyes and Auston takes the time to look back down at the way he’s still gripping his dick. The fabric of his sweats is soaking through and Auston imagines he can see the weak pulses of Marner’s dick. He can’t, but it’s a nice thought, imagining what that would feel like inside his mouth or breaking his heat, or perhaps just on an off day, tucked up inside of him sending shocks of pleasure up his spine with every jerk and twitch while he makes Marner work a few of Auston’s own orgasms through him. 

What’s the point of being able to take a knot like a champ if it isn’t for multiple orgasms? 

He’s really glad he wore black today, because he’s wet for this. Not wetter than Marner, but uncomfortable and definitely in need of a shower before going to watch tape with the team. 

“Can I come over tonight?” Marner asks, when all that’s happened in the past few minutes is Auston staring at his knot and categorizing the way his scent is shifting through his orgasm. It’s something Auston speculates will be a fascinating study for him. 

Auston flicks his eyes up to Marner’s face. “For what?” 

Marner smiles, small and soft. “Take out and COD.” 

“That all?” 

They both look down to where Marner’s still coming, if a bit weakly now. And Marner giggles, a little hysterically. He flops back down against his seat and says, “I’d like to make out too. You’re team, Matts- you’re not a randomer. But just because I’ve fucked this up doesn’t mean I’m not going to do this properly. Court you.”

Auston wants to make a joke. But he doesn’t because he can smell a little truth there, small and stinging and real -- like Marner is a little embarrassed but fuck, scent has made them both fools over the past few months, he’s not the only one feeling ridiculous. Then again, Auston didn’t embarrass himself more than a two month tantrum. Marner knotted over a simple claiming acceptance…in public. 

He gives Marner a look, hopefully to convey that sentiment, but Marner just smiles back. “You really do smell fucking insane,” Marner says, groaning. “I’m surprised I didn’t come when you got into the car. Also, it was unclear if you hated me or not, so you can’t really blame me for being excited to get a chance at you.” 

“To be fair,” Auston says. “I’m still not sure if I hate you or not most of the time.” 

Marner laughs and Auston doesn’t find himselfs edging away from annoyed at the braying sound and hurtling toward fond. 

“What a vote of confidence, eh?” 

Auston shrugs and finally, Marner takes his hand off his dick. He wipes his hands on his shirt and Auston wants to tell him that he looks debauched, lap messy with come and dick still half-hard as his knot shrinks. He wants to tell Marner how close he is to dipping down, swallowing his semi-knot and sucking until he screams, locking Auston there. He wants to tell Marner how much he wants to fuck him -- watch him take Auston on his hands and knees, feeling him knot his hand when he gives him a reach around and make a mess of them both. He wants to tell him that he can’t wait to watch Marner underneath him, smaller and alpha, when he jerks and fucks up into Auston, knot swelling, perhaps sinking his perfect teeth into a claim mark or two, but Auston doesn’t say anything at all. 

Where the fuck would he start? 

“Someday that will stop being hot,” Marner says. Auston arches an eyebrow. Marner grins. “That- you being such a dick. Why is that so hot, it’s unnatural.” 

Auston shrugs again, to get the reaction and then leans back and settles into his side of the cab. He needs to go. He’ll be late soon and he doesn’t want them both showing up smelling like sex and budding romance or some shit Mo would come up with. 

“I’ll go in first,” Auston says and Marner rolls his eyes. 

“The boys will know in no time.” 

“You gonna brag about it?” 

Marner punches Auston in the arm. “No, you asshole. I just mean- you smell a little like me and you’re going to be nicer to me, right?” 

“I don’t think you want me to be nicer to you, bud,” Auston says honestly, watching when Marner flushes and Auston is painfully aware of his own arousal. 

Marner groans, dramatic but smiling. His teeth are very big.

“Get out of my truck.” 

“Clean yourself up,” Auston says. “Don’t be late.” 

Marner grumbles but he’s smiling, sneaking glances at Auston while he pulls himself together. Auston suddenly doesn’t want to leave the safety of the cab. Marner’s right, the team will find out soon enough because it’s not hard to smell mixing scents and Auston is sure Marner’s courting gifts and rituals will be the same bizarre mix of traditional and _Marner_ that will be chirping fodder for the ages. The boys would never miss out on that. 

“Hey, come here,” Marner says, soft again, like he can feel Auston’s shift in mood. Auston lets himself be pulled in. Marner looks at his face until his eyes cross and then he smooths his hand, damp and disgusting and smelling so strongly like apples tumbled in lemonade and Auston sighs. Marner presses their lips together in the chastest kiss Auston’s ever received from a suitor. It’s really more of a familial kiss, but Marner’s hand smells like come, which both ruins everything and makes it worthwhile. 

He pulls away, his thumb tracing Auston’s chin before he rubs over Auston’s lips.

There’s a moment, when Auston is about to open his mouth, suck the salty taste of Marner off his thumb but he knows they’ll never leave the truck if that happens. Because if Marner asked to suck him off right now, Auston would not only let him choke on it but he’d most definitely push Marner back until he was sucking slick out of Auston, let him fuck a knot into him right there in the car, propriety or slow suiting be _damned_. And then they’d both be kicked off the team and probably on the news and Auston would have to kill them both out of shame. 

So instead, he keeps his mouth shut and inhales another sinking sensation of Marner’s arousal while Marner runs his come-stank finger over his lips again. Marner hauls him back in for another bruising, uncomfortably chaste kiss, pressing their mouths together far too hard, before he says, “Matts, you gotta leave. I’m dying here.” 

Auston gets out of the car and this time, when he turns around to yell at Marner to stop staring, he returns Marner’s spastic wave with a middle finger but he can see Marner grinning, pleased.

<3<3<3


End file.
